


Between firelight, negotiations and admiration

by lillaseptember



Series: Between money, drugs and blood [5]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Gen, Organized Crime, idk i just feel like these two have a very interesting dynamic, the seasoned kinpin alana and the rising star abigail, unnecessarily long sentences and an abundance of commas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-18
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-26 23:42:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,167
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5025277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillaseptember/pseuds/lillaseptember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A conversation between the drug lord and one of her apprentice hitmen. The somewhat direct continuation of "Between leaves, corpses and innocence".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Between firelight, negotiations and admiration

Their keys rattled against the ebony door, the soft glow coming from within the opaque window looking ever so inviting in the chilly evening air. Tumbling inside the dimly lit foyer in a fit of giggles, Margot's lips brushing over Alana's cheeks, which were still burning pleasantly from the wine they had shared at dinner, they tried to hush each other as they heard the disgruntled rattling of the housekeeper from within the kitchen. Except the distinct clatter of their old housekeeper taking care of dishes, the only sounds in the peaceful house came from the living room, the weak crackling of the fireplace and the gentle and low strings of music, and from their incessant giggling. Clarence must have already been put to bed then, and they would have the rest of the night to themselves.

Pulling her in by her scarf, Margot kissed her chastely, both of them quieting down as their lips barely brushed, the brief contact leaving Alana breathless nonetheless. Alana's fingers grazed at her wife's hips, drawing her closer, pressing her lips more firmly against Margot's, which parted to accept her with a soft exhale. Alana had just started working on the buttons of Margot's coat, Margot's nimble fingers woven into her delicate hairdo, slowly unraveling it, when the soft suite was suddenly interrupted by the sharp clearing of a throat.

Untangling from each other, Margot straightening her coat and Alana correcting her slightly smudged lipstick, they both tried to make themselves more presentable as Alana looked up at the lithe form leaning against the mahogany door frame leading in to the living room with an amused grin plastered on her face and her arms crossed. 

Tucking away some flyaway hairs behind her ear, she raised her chin as she met the bemused gaze of their babysitter.

"Good evening, Abigail."

"Hi."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw how Abigail smirked as Margot once again stole her attention by gently caressing her cheek.

"Well, I'm going to take a shower," she announced as she brushed aside some more of Alana's disarranged hair, her eyelids drooping slightly. "And slip into something a little more comfortable."

There was a soft croon in her voice, and Alana's cheek burned from her touch as she slowly removed her hand and placed it on the wrought iron railing that led her up to their bedroom. The gentle flicker of the candle lights was reflected by the crystals in the chandelier, and the fractured light added another flourish to her already dangerously flirtatious silhouette as she made her way up the stairs. Alana could feel the burning sensation she had left behind spread, and soon her mind was made up of nothing else than the thought of Margot's touch...

"Uhm... If I'm not being terribly bothersome, there's something I would like to ask you."

Silently biting her own tongue and motionlessly shaking herself out of the trance Margot had managed to ensnare her in, she tried to not take insult as she turned around to face the smug grin of the teenage girl again.

"Oh?" Gesturing into the living room, Abigail preceded her, and Alana tried to regain her focus. Slightly tipsy and noticeably scattered minded, she could have agreed to anything the younger girl might have asked for, and she tried to collect herself as she gestured for Abigail to take a seat in the venerable spoon back next to the fireplace as she herself sat down in the chaise lounge across from it. And as she crossed her legs as she leaned back against the rest, her head swimming slightly, but keeping up an air of professionalism as she eyed the younger girl, she wondered if she had planned for this all along. "Well, I'm all ears."

Abigail's gaze strayed from Alana's momentarily, quickly inspecting the dimly lit room, from the hidden speakers producing the gentle music to the sound period pieces decorating the room to the frail drapes filtering the soft moonlight outside to the Gentileschi painting concealing the only vault Alana had allowed to be installed in the house. Abigail was well familiar with the Bloom-Verger house, their small mansion having become almost like a second home to her. She had quite early established that she had a way of charming her way into most hearts, and Alana and Margot had been no exception. The younger girl had spent numerous weekends in their company, just wanting to get away from the reeking masculinity of her own home, or just wanting company whenever her fathers were out of town for business.

And both Alana and Margot quite enjoyed her company, her mind especially witty and her tongue particularly sharp for her age, and she did get along so well with Clarence.

And despite her somewhat uncanny aura, a feature she shared with her adoptive fathers, she was an utter delight and pleasure to keep for company.

"Well..." She trailed off as her eyes finally settled on Alana's again. "It's about my work."

Squinting slightly in the gentle glow of the fireplace, Alana tried to read the expression on the younger girl's face, but was only rewarded with the soft dulling of an impending headache.

"The babysitting or..."

"...the other work," Abigail concluded for her. Alana heard her take a deep breath and saw the outline of her straightening in her armchair, and suddenly the flickering light of the hearth illuminated her face properly, and her intense green eyes fixed on Alana's own. "I would like to get my own hits."

Only tilting her head slightly in response, Abigail took the hint of elaborating.

"Right now all of my solo hits goes through my dads, and I _know_ they are keeping a lot of contracts from me." Pausing briefly to let the declaration sink in, Abigail not once allowed her eyes waver from Alana's. "I'm 18, and I can make my own decisions now. And I _want_ to work."

"So, what are you proposing?" Shuffling slightly in her seat, Alana had an inkling that she would not enjoy where this conversation was going.

"That you hand me hits directly." 

Abigail's piercing green were eyes steady on hers as Alana slowly leaned back in the seat as she pondered her words.

She really was something.

The thing about Abigail was that she had not only managed to twine one cold blooded murderer around her dainty little fingers, but _two_. She had managed to charm her way into the midst of the fastest growing drug cartel on the east coast with just the clothes on her back and the vengeance burning in her eyes. She had matured from a rawboned and neglected streetrat with grimy and grating little paws, to a gracious and blossoming young lady who had a way of manipulating even the most vicious of brutes with just a subtle smile, all within the period of just a couple of years.

And she was going to be the most triumphant of them all one day.

"Don't you have schoolwork to worry about?" Pursing her lips slowly as she inspected the delicate looking but immensely lethal girl in front of her, she was only met by an amused grin. 

"My peers work at McDonald's and Walmart. Can't be that different, right?"

"I'm a better employer," she simply stated, and Abigail laughed softly, but Alana was still not able to shake the wariness from her bones. "Your fathers would have my head if they ever found out," she said as her chest slowly retracted, finally admitting the core of her reluctance.

But Abigail just snorted with a wicked grin.

"They'd have my neck too," she said as the flames danced slowly in her eyes. Alana couldn't help but to let her own eyes drift down to the ragged scar along the base of the young girl's neck. She had always been curious, but there had never been the time to ask, and now was not it either. And so she focused on Abigail's eyes again. "That's why they can never know."

Alana exhaled steadily as she leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin on her hands as she considered the words of the unprecedented girl in front of her.

"Are you sure you can keep a secret from your fathers?"

"It's not as hard as you make it seem."

A little taken aback by the girl's confidence, she raised her eyebrows slightly.

"Our little secret then."

"Our little secret."

Holding Abigail's unwavering gaze, Alana afforded herself a few more moments of hesitation as she considered the united wrath of The Murder Husbands if they would ever find out, and the proceeding bloodbath that would without a question occur. But the list was growing longer by the day, and she _did_ need more resources.

And Abigail seemed steadfast in her conviction.

"Alright then. You'll start getting your own hits."

Abigail looked genuinely surprised, and her lips curled into a sincere smile.

"Really? Thank you!"

"Don't thank me." Watching the young girl's heartfelt gratitude, Alana finally allowed herself to smile too. "Not yet."

"Mommy!"

Always the master of timing, the sound of Clarence's tapping footsteps suddenly filled the entire house, he came sprinting into the living room, his hair on ends, his periwinkle blue pajamas slightly crumpled and askew and his stuffed bunny dangling in the crook of his arm. Jumping up onto Alana's lap, she promptly greeted him with a rain of kisses, ignoring to inquire why he wasn't in bed as she left sloppy lipstick marks all across his face, and he only halfheartedly tried to fight her off.

But as she planted one final kiss on his forehead, she fixed him with a stern look.

"Have you been a good boy?"

"The best boy," Abigail offered with a soft smile before Clarence even had the chance to answer himself, and Alana hugged her son tighter.

It still surprised her, how easy Abigail slipped between her many roles. She had just negotiated herself into killing more people, and within the blink of an eye, she was just like any other teenage girl, a genuine fondness in her eyes as she watched the small boy in Alana's lap.

"Good." Alana smiled down at Clarence, and he offered her that angelic smile of his, and she wondered just what kind of mischief the two of them had been up to.

"Well." Standing up, Abigail stretched her arms above her head, and grimaced softly as she glanced at the clock. "I guess that means I actually have to go home."

"Why do you sound so sad?" Clarence asked as he hugged his stuffed bunny closer. "Your daddies are the funniest people I know!"

"Yeah, well, that's because their your _friends_ , but they're my _dads_." Abigail crouched down in front of Alana so that she were at the same level as Clarence. "And you don't have one, so you wouldn't understand."

Clarence frowned softly, and Alana smiled slowly as she brushed aside some of his disheveled hair.

He really was lucky he didn't know his father.

"Well, you don't have two moms either," he finally responded as he glanced innocently up at Alana, and she gasped dramatically in offence, and Clarence fell into a small giggle fit.

"Touché." Abigail laughed softly before she glanced at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room again and rose to stand up. "I'll see you around, buddy."

She reached out to tousle his hair quickly before she left, and Clarence squirmed softly in Alana's lap, but he looked up with an adoring gaze as she left the room.

"Yeah."

They both watched her as she made her way out into the foyer, as she put on her jacked and tied her scarf snugly around her throat, put her hand on the golden door knob, but hesitated. And turning around again, she peeked her head into the living room again, her gloved hand resting on the mahogany door frame.

"And Alana. Thank you." The appreciation was so sincere in her voice that Alana couldn't help the smile on her lips.

"No problem."

And with a quick smile that reached all the way up to her eyes, she was gone.

Alana settled into her seat as Clarence started retelling all that they had done that night, his voice as melodious and comforting as the music still drifting from the speakers. Margot came downstairs, her hair damp, face scrubbed clean and a silk robe tied around her waist. Sitting down on the chaise lounge next to her wife, she tangled her bare feet with her son's, and Alana buried her face in his hair as their laughter filled her with contentment. But as Clarence tumbled out of her grip, attacking his other mother, who was by then laughing uncontrollably, Alana spared herself a glance out of the frail drapes to watch Abigail walk down the driveway, her silhouette just a dark apparition in the moonlight.

_She was something real exceptional indeed._

**Author's Note:**

> This is really just my love letter to Abigail Hobbs. #NoShame
> 
> I listened to _a lot_ of Bach while writing this. _Can you feel the Baroque tonight?_ And I highly recommend checking out [this post](http://stolligaseptember.tumblr.com/post/130980260794/kandorian-digestivo-hannibal-2015giuditta) over on tumblr, because it is _relevant_.
> 
> ~~And I would be lying if I said that the superfluous luxury isn't one of the things I'm enjoying most while writing this series. A girl can dream, can't she?~~


End file.
